The Princess
by Piertotum Locomoter
Summary: AU. Dramione, read A/N in beginning. A curse inflicted upon Hermione by Morgan Le Fay. She can't love, so what will she do?
1. Prologue

_**I may make this a multi-chapter fic if I get enough responses. Warning, this could potentially be Dramione if people enjoy this, so if you don't like Dramione, don't read this. This was just an idea, and I wanted to test it out. I hope you enjoy!**_

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A long time ago, when Arthur became King Arthur and asked for Guinevere's hand in marriage, a princess was born. This was no ordinary princess, for she was born into a family of wizards and witches, who lived in no ordinary castle.

Yes, a long time ago, princess Hermione was born at Hogwarts, a fiery, kind, terrifying little thing, who loved to observe every little detail the world presented to her. She was the most carefree little soul, who made all the maidens and knights laugh, who her parents loved more than life itself. But even though she was carefree now, as she grew up, she would be anything but.

As 13-year-old Hermione set foot in Hogwarts, she smelled the most exquisite fragrance from the kitchens.

"Whatever are you making, Rose?"

The twinkly-eyed cook smiled. She loved the little thing. Always so polite, so charming. "Poached eggs and honey mustard sauce. It'll be ready in an hour, miss."

"Oh, Rose, please don't call me miss. It makes me feel like you're my slave, and that's a dreadful feeling."

"Right you are, miss."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, smiling. "I'm going to go find my parents. Do you know where they are."

"They should be in the Great Hall, miss."

"Thanks, Rose!" she shouted as she ran to the Hall.

She was about to knock on the doors when she noticed they were slightly ajar, and the voices of her parents arguing reached her ears.

"She's too young, Cristoph! Give it a year or two!"

"Jean, if she doesn't know now, she'll be in immense danger!"

"Morgana cannot and _will _not affect our daughter!"

"Mom? Dad?" A sweet, innocent voice filled the room.

"Hermione! Er, we were just heading to breakfast. I've heard poached eggs are on the menu! Come on, darling, let's go!" As her parents directed her out of the Great Hall, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what on earth was going on.

A sixteen-year-old Hermione giggled as Chris planted a kiss on her nose.

"Chris! Stop! It tickles!" he chuckled softly as she giggled once more.

"Someday, you will be my wife," he said firmly as he captured her lips once more.

Seventeen-year-old Hermione sobbed as Chris's body was lowered to the ground. Sombre music filled the air as family and friends started to leave. Her parents watched her with a look of pity and sympathy and made to leave. Hermione didn't, couldn't get up and eventually fell into a restless sleep in the grass.

"My dear child," Morgana murmured. "You poor, poor thing. The love of your life, murdered in cold blood right outside your castle. By none other than me."

"It was you?! How could you! You, you..witch!" Hermione couldn't think straight. She wildly looked around as Morgana's cold laugh filled the air.

"Innocence. What a weakness. Can't even through a good insult.

"Why did you do it."

"Oh, that's simple. Your parents wronged me, so now it is my turn to wrong them by default." Her cold laugh filled the air once more.

"I hope you don't miss Chris too much."

She cackled.

Twenty-year-old Hermione wouldn't get out of her chambers. Her parents called many people who could help her, but none succeeded. She hated her parents for not telling her sooner. She hated all the people who came to help. She hated Morgana for inflicting this upon her. She became so full of hatred, stuck in her chambers with nowhere to go, that she changed completely. Gone was the sweet, innocent Hermione. Now Hermione wanted to hunt Morgana down, inflict all the pain she could muster, and kill her slowly.

That night, she snuck out from the castle. She spent years trying to find Morgana, and when she did, she killed her like she swore she would.

Finally succeeding, Hermione should have been happy. Instead, she was horrified at what she'd done, and afraid of what she could become, so she fled to the Dark Woods, the only place she thought was suitable for her.

Her parents thought she was dead, the whole castle thought she was dead. But she was slowly growing bitter and angry in her eery isolation.


	2. Important AN

**A/N: Okay, so one of my lovely reviewers said that they didn't understand why Morgana placed a curse on Hermione. I realise I didn't execute it very well...**

**All Hermione knows is the fact that Morgana killed Chris. If someone had killed a person you love, like your parents/someone you're involved with romantically, your instinct would be to hunt them down and inflict as much pain as possible, right? That's exactly what Hermione did. She was blinded by hatred so much she forgot to think straight. As the story unfolds, so will the reason Morgana placed the curse on Hermione, and what it does. :D**

**Also, I don't want reviews saying they hate Dramione. That is so not my problem.**

**Oh, and I decided I will be continuing this story. Chapter 2 is almost done, it'll be ready in a week or two!**

**Happy Reading!**


	3. Strange Girl

**Okay, I know I said I'd upload in a week, but I had this chapter done and thought, why not upload now?**

**Draco is slightly OOC in this story. And guys, Hermione is NOT EVIL! This is a story about finding love in the darkest times, and won't end in tragedy.**

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Sir Draco Malfoy was not having a good day. The King (he had a lot more colourful words to describe him) had ordered him to scout around the Dark Woods, in case Morgana was still alive and a threat. Honestly! As if someone in their right mind would ever want to live there! Malfoy didn't like his job. He didn't like the fact his dad treated his kind, thoughtful mother like a slave. He didn't like being forced to join the army at the age of ten. He didn't like the King for being such close friends with his worthless father.

To be honest, life would be so much easier if his father wasn't around.

Lucius Malfoy believed in purity. No, not purity in bravery, wisdom and life, like the original Malfoys had believed. He believed in the purity of blood. If you didn't know the most esteemed, snobby idiots around the world, then you weren't fit to live. He turned his nose on slaves and people below him, which is why Draco didn't understand why he treated his mother so roughly.

Draco wanted to quit the army, find something else to do. The only important things in his life were Aria, the most beautiful black and white stray anyone had ever seen, and his mother, though sometimes he couldn't help but think her weak when she didn't retaliate to his father's punishments.

Yes, there was nothing else to live for other than those two.

Hermione, as we knew her, as _she _knew herself, was no more. This Hermione fashioned weapons out of teeth, flint and rocks to let all her anger out. She didn't care if it hit the occasional rabbit or bird. In her mind, she was already far too evil to become herself again.

She was not this monster created by murder. In some part of her, she knew that. She knew she could go back. Instead, she ignored that irritating voice in her, and continued being the monster she very well knew.

After she retreated into the Woods, she did a bit of reading. Scripts and leather-bound books, old and new, loose pages out of books that were torn years ago, and so much more. All they had in common was Morgana. Morgana's early life, Morgana's family, and most importantly, Morgana's revenge.

She learned that when someone wronged Morgana, she struck revenge in the weakest spot. She wouldn't attack directly. She'd kill off or curse someone else, a loved one, so that the people who wronged her would suffer more and wish they were the ones who died themselves.

This knowledge turned her crazy. The Old Hermione would have gone to her parents and begged for forgiveness. Forgiveness for scaring them, forgiveness for thinking her parent were to blame. But the New Hermione couldn't bring herself to forgive. Forgiveness was weak, she decided, almost as weak as love.

As the sun slowly set, she retreated into her little cottage, her thoughts never leaving her.

The sun was slowly setting. Draco had heard rumours about the Dark Woods at night, and they weren't exactly pleasant. He shook those thoughts off, focusing on the mission. An hour or two passed by. The sun had set, and the sky was slowly turning dark. Aria whinnied

"It's okay, girl," he murmured. Aria started stomping. She was slowly growing restless.

Restlessness was a weakness, in his father's opinion. It was like a seed. It grew and grew and grew if you kept watering it, until it eventually blossomed into a ferocious beast, eating you up.

But then again, when had Draco listened to his father?

Suddenly, without any warning, Aria took off.

"Aria!" he yelled.

As he was running after her, he noticed she was going towards a little light in the middle of a tiny clearing. Draco ran faster.

Hermione heard neighing and someone shouting. A little alarmed, she got out of the cottage, only to see a magnificent black and white horse running towards her. More than a little alarmed now, she went into her cottage, looking out of the window to see what was happening.

After a few minutes, a blur of platinum blonde hair and brown clothing cam running out of the woods, towards the pretty mare. Once he reached her, he offered soothing words of encouragement and praise. The horse slowly calmed down.

If she had not become the monster she is now, she would have noticed his lean, muscular body. She would have noticed how his platinum blonde hair hung loosely around his forehead, and how he'd keep brushing it off, but it would always settle on his forehead. She'd notice how his lips naturally turned down in a frown, and how he wouldn't smile often.

But sadly, all she noticed was that a strange man was standing outside her house with a horse.

"It's okay, Aria. Come on now," Draco whispered to the mare. "Let's go home now. This is a bit spooky, isn't it?"

As they made to leave, Draco heard the sound of a door being opened. Brilliant. That's exactly what he feared. Slowly turning around, his eyes landed not on a witch, but a pretty girl.

He noticed how her curly brown hair rested on her shoulders. He noticed how her chestnut eyes twinkled in the moonlight. He noticed her torn dark grey clothes, he noticed her lean body, standing in a confident stance.

Draco was more than a little attracted to this strange girl.

"Who are you?" Draco looked shocked. Why did this girl have such a cold voice?

"I should be asking the same thing."

"Who. Are. You?"

He bowed "Sir Draco Malfoy, knight of Tintagel Castle."

"What are you doing here?"

"That," he said. "Is something I've been told to keep quiet." Didn't women like mysterious men?

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

Maybe not then. "I've been asked to scout the Woods for Morgana."

This girl cackled. "Morgana is dead!"

"How would a pretty damsel like you know?"

"Because I killed her myself."

Okay, now Draco was a bit alarmed. Was this girl Morgana?

"Okay then...We'll be off now."

She glared. "Go on then."

As Draco made to leave again, he realised something. If he lied to the King, he would surely be beheaded. The King had specifically said find someone, or he'd suffer.

"Actually, er, do you mind if we stay?"

She smiled. "Of course not. Your pretty mare can sleep inside my cottage, and you...why don't you connect with nature for a bit?"

She turned around with Aria and left Draco utterly nonplussed.

This was going to be a long night.


End file.
